Previously to his arrival, however, he dispatched a messenger to his dependents, at the trading-house, directing them to prevent his squaw from appearing in the presence of his wife. She was accordingly sent off to the village of her nation, a distance of sixty or seventy miles. But she could not long remain there, and soon returned with her little boy on her back, and accompanied by some of her friends, she encamped near her husband's residence. She sent her son to the trader, who treated him affectionately. On the succeeding day the trader sent for his squaw, and {227} after making her some presents, he directed her to accompany her friends who were then on their way to their hunting grounds. She departed without a murmur, as it is not unusual with the Omawhaws to send off one of their wives, on some occasions, while they remain with the favourite one. About two months afterwards the trader recalled her. Overjoyed with what she supposed to be her good fortune, she lost no time in presenting herself before the husband whom she tenderly loved. But great was her disappointment, when her husband demanded the surrender of the child, and renounced for the future any association with herself, directing her to return to her people, and to provide for her future wellbeing in any way she might choose. Overpowered by her feelings, on this demand and repudiation, she ran from the house, and finding a periogue on the river shore, she paddled over to the opposite side and made her escape into the forest with her child. The night was cold, and attended with a fall of snow and hail. Reflecting upon her disconsolate condition, she resolved to return again in the morning, and with the feelings of a wife and mother to plead her cause before the arbiter of her fate, and endeavour to mitigate the cruel sentence. Agreeably to this determination, she once more approached him, upon whom she believed she had claims paramount to those of any other individual. "Here is our child," said she: "I do not question your fondness for him, but he is still more dear to me. You say that you will keep him for yourself, and drive me far from you. But no, I will remain with him; I can find some hole or corner into which I may creep, in order to be near him and sometimes to see him. If you will not give me food, I will, nevertheless, remain until I starve before your eyes."